Signing Off
by AsWeAreNow
Summary: America doesn't understand why England signs off with X when texting France and not when texting him. FrUk.


America was bored.

He was so bored, in fact, that he thought he was going to die. He wasn't even at the boring part yet. No, the boring part would be when he went to the World Meeting and all of the European nations started beating him into the ground about what he'd done recently. It wasn't like he'd even really wanted to do it; some things just happened. And then they were going to skin him alive and roast him over a fire while Germany preached about peace. It would be kind of annoying, honestly— everyone was expecting him to be the better person in every situation, just because he was more powerful, but America didn't think it quite fair that he should be treated as a human being instead of a superpower.

So he was going to avoid that. Avoidance was his goal.

He arrived at the World Meeting.

France was one of the few nations there. He didn't even look up from his phone. "Hi, France. Whatcha doin'?"

America looked over his shoulder. "Oh, I'm just texting England. He's being a jerk, as usual."

"Why does he sign off with an 'x' when he texts you?" America wondered.

"Hm. I don't know."

(Linebreak.)

A few weeks later, America was curled up on the ground, crying over something he couldn't fix while listening to The Notorious B.I.G. He was in a lot of pain, and even worse was the fact that he wasn't sick or anything. America couldn't do anything about this; he just had a deadly headache, and he had to trust the Greatest Deliberative Body In The World to take care of him.

Basically, he was in God's hands. And so he murmured a tiny prayer:

'Dear God;

If I ever get over all this pain, I'll owe you one, I guess.

Obliged to you for hearing me.'

The question now was whether or not the Greatest Deliberative Body In The Whole Entire Motherfucking World was taking care of him.

He switched the radio station for a few minutes, listened, groaned, and then turned it back.

America rolled over, onto his other side. Usually it wasn't so bad, but this whole goddamn thing was just one joke after another... and another... and another. It was almost fucking funny. If America was honest he was more concerned with the fact that he felt less alive— not dead, just less alive— than he was with what was actually going on, because he really didn't care. Headache medicine didn't work, and sound and light made it worse. Still, silence and darkness peeved him— and so the lights stayed on—

If he just sat in the dark and tried to sleep, he almost had to form an opinion, and he couldn't do that.

And then the power went out.

He sat up and reached for his phone. Now he had to find something else to distract him.

America figured he'd browse the internet.

As soon as he went to his recommended on YouTube, he found at least ten videos of talk show hosts, talking about the trial.

So he left that quickly, and tried to think of something he could use to distract himself.

Maybe it was immature of him to not want to form an opinion, but it hurt to try. When all this was over, he could read as much as he wanted and form his opinions and he'd be fine.

He laid there for awhile. If he strained, it was like he could almost hear Senators murmuring in the back of the room.

America got up and decided that he wanted some milk.

So he stood there, and drank his milk, and then thought of something he could use to distract himself.

America picked up his phone, typed the password in rather lazily, and Googled the following:

'Why would a British person sign off with x?'

He read a few articles on it, and they all came up to the same thing: British people signed off with 'x' when they were fond of or friends with a person.

Well, he was friends with England, wasn't he? Why didn't England ever sign off with 'x' when he texted America?

America was great friends with England! Well, okay, maybe not quite— but they were a strong alliance, so it was basically the same thing!

He called England.

"What is it, America? I had just fallen asleep, so this better be important."

"Why don't you sign off with 'x' when you text me?" America asked.

"Why do you care? I never text you."

"But we're friends, aren't we?"

"Not really—,"

"That's bullshit! Yes we are!"

"I'm sorry, America, I didn't know you still wanted to be friends after you spent one-hundred-fifty years not talking to me—,"

"But that's in the past now, isn't it? I talk to you all the time now!"

England sighed. "Do you want me to start signing off with 'x' when I text you?"

"Yeah," America murmured sheepishly.

"Okay. Goodnight, America. I'm going to sleep."

"Goodnight, England."

(Linebreak.)

Everything was fine for awhile- until the next World Meeting.

America happened to look over France's shoulder again. This time England was signing off with _three _x's.

That wasn't fair! How were England and France such better friends?

"What do three x's mean?" America asked.

France went still for a moment, and then sighed. "America, you scared me. And I don't know."

(Linebreak.)

America pestered England that night. And every other night. England stubbornly refused to sign off with three x's, and he wouldn't tell America what it meant either.

One night, just as he was about to start harassing England, France called him.

"America, I think it's time we have a little talk."

"Okay. Shoot," America said warily, even though this could hardly be good.

"When a British person loves another person very much—,"

America never pestered about England's method of signing off ever again.

**A/N: Sorry. It's been a bit since I last posted, hasn't it? I'm not dead; I've just been working on other things, mainly because I have to. Additionally, I started a FictionPress account. (This means I don't have to dump all my personal shit on America! Can you believe it? Never fear, for many of my prompts are that much easier to write when characters are already established.) However, I haven't made much progress on that front, either. This was a bit rushed, I must admit, but I'm hoping the publishing of this story will get me going again. **

**A review would be wonderful. Regardless, have a great day and stay safe and hydrated. Additionally, this isn't supposed to be politically biased— I wrote the beginning of this at the start of January, and I wrote the rest of this in the span of two days. Forgive me if it seems a bit harsh.**


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